


Bats

by saintnoname



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, It 2019 spoilers, M/M, Pain, Smut, omg so much pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 23:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintnoname/pseuds/saintnoname
Summary: For almost three decades, he’d been haunted by a face without a name.  Or was it a name without a face?  He couldn’t quite tell, and honestly, in this case, it was a bit of both.What he did recall was crass humor and a tough shell, but something softer underneath: a boy who would die for his friends.  He knew that much, at least—that the person from his dreams was a boy—but he didn’t know who this boy was.  He didn’t know what this boy looked like.  He didn’t know this boy’s name.  He didn’t even have any real memories of him or anything they’d done together.  All he had was vague impressions.  He thought that maybe the mystery would never be solved, that maybe he’d never figure out who this boy was.Then he got a call from Mike Hanlon.





	Bats

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in years, so comments are appreciated. Witness my comeback, y'all. XD
> 
> This is mostly canon compliant, but I've taken a few liberties. Follow me on tumblr at [@saintnoname2](https://saintnoname2.tumblr.com/)

For almost three decades, he’d been haunted by a face without a name. Or was it a name without a face? He couldn’t quite tell, and honestly, in this case, it was a bit of both.

What he did recall was crass humor and a tough shell, but something softer underneath: a boy who would die for his friends. He knew that much, at least—that the person from his dreams was a boy—but he didn’t know who this boy was. He didn’t know what this boy looked like. He didn’t know this boy’s name. He didn’t even have any real memories of him or anything they’d done together. All he had was vague impressions. He thought that maybe the mystery would never be solved, that maybe he’d never figure out who this boy was.

Then he got a call from Mike Hanlon.

-

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” Eddie sat on the edge of his hotel room bed, not feeling much of anything except for stunned numbness—and guilt over not being sadder. But he hadn’t seen Stan Uris in almost thirty years, and until the previous day, he hadn’t remembered Stan even existed. But still…_still_. Stan had been his friend, and he deserved to be remembered. He deserved to be mourned.

“I know,” Richie replied, his voice conveying that same stunned numbness Eddie felt. “I mean…I expected Stan to pussy out, but not like this.”

“Beep fucking beep.”

The two sat in silence, Eddie on the bed and Richie in the room’s armchair. It was a lot to process, and Eddie couldn’t fault Richie for turning to his default coping mechanism of humor, even if he’d gone too far.

They were staying in different rooms of the same hotel, but after what happened at the restaurant…neither of them was ready to be alone just yet. 

Eddie bit his lip, unsure if he should say what he was about to. “You know…there were times in my dreams when I could almost remember.”

That piqued Richie’s interest. “Oh, yeah?”

Eddie nodded. “I couldn’t remember any details or anything. It was almost more like a feeling.” Frustration snuck into his voice as he tried to describe it. “Just vague ideas, impressions, not names or faces or anything that happened. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” He really didn’t. It filled him with both guilt and envy. He hadn’t remembered jackshit about Pennywise or the Losers or anything before Mike called him. Since he got that call, though? That was a different story. Ever since he’d gotten the call, memory after memory had flooded back to him. He still had black spots in his memory, same as the other Losers besides Mike. He wondered how the ways and rate at which his memories were returning compared to the others.

He wondered if Eddie remembered that time they kissed. Or did that memory now belong to Richie and Richie alone? His dirty little secret…

* * *

It had been the evening of a hot summer day. It had been dark long enough that the heat that had made being outside unbearable in daylight had faded enough to be comfortable. It was on days like this that they were inclined to stay outside late. Sometimes, they would take Richie’s boombox outside and play music, hoping to attract bats. Bats seemed to like music, especially New Wave. They discovered this on accident. They’d simply been playing Richie’s Billy Idol tape when they noticed small figures beginning to swoop overhead.

“Oh, shit, Eds!” Richie exclaimed. “I think those are bats!

They turned the music up louder and laid on their backs in the grass (something Eddie’s mother would have undoubtedly been opposed to). Watching as the bats swooped lower and lower. Closer and closer. Richie’s eyes may have occasionally drifted from the bats to his friend, who wore an awe-stricken look as if these creatures were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

Over the course of the summer, they discovered that bats were also partial to Gary Numan, New Order, OMD, and some Depeche Mode songs (they seemed picky when it came to Depeche Mode, though). Once, Ben had gone with them and tried playing New Kids on the Block to see if that would attract bats.

It didn’t work.

It was on a night like this that it happened. Richie was spending the night at Eddie’s house. It was the kind of night where they would’ve liked to have stayed outside late, but today, Eddie’s mom insisted on them coming inside early. She also insisted on Eddie taking a shower the instant he got inside, which left Richie with some time to kill in Eddie’s room.

He perused Eddie’s comic collection. Richie had already read most of them, and the ones he hadn’t read yet didn’t really interest him. There were some he liked enough to reread, though, so he pulled them out and, without even thinking about it, flopped onto Eddie’s bed with them.

He was deeply engrossed in one of them when Eddie returned, damp-haired and wearing pajamas and a bathrobe. Eddie’s brows shot straight up when he saw Richie. “Wanna give me my bed back now?”

Richie sat up. He hadn’t even noticed Eddie until the boy spoke. “I’m so sorry. I could set up my sleeping bag.”

“Dude, I’m fucking with you. I think we can both fit.”

Richie looked at the boy like he thought he was crazy for thinking they could both fit on Eddie’s twin-sized bed. Nevertheless, Eddie proceeded to lay down beside him. It was a tight fit. It never would’ve worked for an entire night, but it would work a little while for comic reading. Richie relaxed, settled back down to lay beside Eddie.

“Which ones are you reading?” Eddie asked, grabbing them without asking. “Oh, yeah. These are some good ones.” He selected a comic to begin reading, and Richie went back to reading the one he’d been reading when Eddie came in.

They remained like this for a surprisingly long amount of time. Richie felt sure he’d get uncomfortable quickly and decide to roll out his sleeping bag, but instead, they stayed like that until they’d gone through all the comics Richie had selected. Eddie gathered them up into a pile and went to return them. Strangely, Richie missed that cramped sensation he’d gotten used to while Eddie had been beside him. Being close to Eddie had felt right, and now, having plenty of space to himself felt almost lonely. It occurred to him how stupid this was.

Eddie returned to the bed with new selections. “Here,” he said, handing Richie a comic. It was one of the ones Richie hadn’t been interested in. “It’s really good.” He laid back down beside Richie.

Richie wasn’t interested in the comic. He was much more interested in the boy who had handed it to him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been more interested in Eddie than whatever activity they were engaged in. It was just the first time he decided to act on it.

Richie rolled onto his side to face Eddie, propping himself up with an elbow. Looking down at Eddie, simply seeing how he’d react. He hadn’t done anything yet. He could still back out. If Eddie’s reaction was negative in any way, Richie would flop back down onto the bed, open the comic he wasn’t interested in, pretend to read it. But if Eddie’s reaction wasn’t negative…

Eddie put his comic down on his chest, spread open like a paper blood eagle. He raised an inquisitive brow. “What’re you doing?” There was something almost playful in his tone, as if he knew exactly what Richie was doing and was egging him on.

It was enough for Richie. He went for it.

Eddie’s lips were softer than he expected. He’d thought Eddie’s lips must have been chapped to all hell and back for how often Eddie used lip balm. Then again, maybe it was the other way around: maybe Eddie’s lips _weren’t_ chapped _because_ of how much lip balm he used. Either way, Richie liked the way they felt against his.

Eddie didn’t push him away, which was a good sign, but he also didn’t kiss back right away. When he did kiss back, though, _God_. Richie whimpered. He couldn’t believe he’d mustered up the courage to kiss the boy he liked, and that his courage was being rewarded in the form of Eddie kissing him back. This was incredible. He imagined what it’d be like to hold hands with Eddie at the movies, to go out on real dates, to kiss him and not feel afraid. To get to be with Eddie the way straight kids got to be together.

And then all the homophobic shit he’d heard his entire life flooded into his thoughts.

_fagsgetaidsfagsrapelittleboysfagsgotohellfagsdiealonefags—_

Richie tore their lips apart and went to set up his sleeping bag.

Eddie lay motionless on his bed, his expression a mix of bewilderment and confusion and a little hurt. That made Richie regret not only kissing Eddie in the first place, but abruptly ending it without an apology or explanation. He didn’t want to hurt Eddie. But he didn’t say anything, and neither did Eddie.

* * *

If Eddie did remember that, he probably wouldn’t have invited Richie back to his room, Richie reassured himself. Yeah. Eddie didn’t remember _shit_, Richie was sure of it.

“I’m beat,” Richie said, though even he wasn’t convinced. He knew Eddie would see it as a cheap cop-out. Richie going off to roll out his sleeping bag again. Richie pussying out again. He was really in no condition to criticize Stan.

“No, I get it,” Eddie said, waving a hand. But Richie knew Eddie wasn’t as unaffected as he made himself seem. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah.” The way he said it was almost apologetic. “Tomorrow’ll be even longer, if what Mike told us is true.”

That distracted Eddie. “Oh, _God_, yes. Do you remember that fucking clown?”

“How could I _not_ remember that fucking clown? What I can’t believe is that we all made that stupid oath.”

Eddie shrugged a shoulder. “We were kids. We didn’t know where life would take us. Or what our stakes would be today.”

And Eddie was right. When their sliced hands were joined at thirteen, if any of them could see where they’d be at forty, would they have made that promise? Richie doubted it.

“Do you love her?”

Eddie blinked, taken aback by both the question itself and how out of place and inappropriate it seemed in the conversation. “It’s—complicated.”

Richie nodded.

But Eddie felt that wasn’t enough. He knew he could convey everything he felt toward Myra to Richie with a single sentence. “I love her like I loved my mom.”

Richie’s mouth formed a soundless _Oh_. “Then I take it you don’t wanna fuck her.”

Eddie shook his head, as if repulsed by the idea. Of course, his lack of interest in Myra had never stopped him from fucking her. Especially when her guilt trips were in full effect.

Richie’s brows furrowed. Shit. Eddie revealed too much, and Richie was definitely judging him for the fact that he wasn’t attracted to his wife.

Except that…Richie didn’t _actually_ seem to be judging him. The look on his face was almost sympathetic.

“I never got married,” Richie revealed. “Could somehow never get a relationship to last.” Richie knew exactly why none of his relationships lasted: they were all with women, and he wasn’t into women. If he ever decided to try a relationship with a man, chances were things would turn out differently.

_ fagsgetaidsfagsrapelittleboysfagsgotohellfagsdiealonefags—_

After all this time, he shouldn’t have still been carrying so much baggage. It was a different world now than the one he’d grown up in. After all this time, he should have felt free to be with whoever he wanted.

Except…after he’d gotten the call, he’d read about a hate crime that had just happened in Derry. And now, here he was in fucking Derry. Maybe it was just this town and the influence It had on the town. Or maybe the world just hadn’t come quite as far since they were kids as they all wished.

In a moment of boldness, Richie got out of the armchair and went to flop on the bed.

“Rich?” Eddie shifted to look at him.

“What? I told you I’m beat.”

Chuckling, Eddie lay down beside him. Despite their being bigger than they were at thirteen, there was much more space between them on Eddie’s hotel room bed than there had been on his twin-sized mattress.

Richie didn’t like that.

Yes, there was alcohol involved. Of course, that was a factor to consider. All of them got pretty shitfaced at the restaurant before those fucking fortune cookies had ruined everything. But alcohol wasn’t the only factor to be considered.

“I’m pretty beat, too,” Eddie admitted. “What happened at the restaurant took a lot out of me. And finding out about Stan…”

“I could leave if you wanna sleep.”

Eddie furrowed his brows and shook his head. “Would you--?” He hesitated. “Stay with me?”

Richie sat up. “Yeah, of course. I’ve just gotta go back to my room to get some things first.” Richie left and returned shortly after with a backpack. He disappeared into the bathroom with it. When he emerged, he was wearing a pair of light blue button-down pajamas. That got a look from Eddie. He’d never thought Richie would be the type to start wearing dad pajamas. They looked good on him, though. Somewhere along the way (probably earlier), Eddie had started wearing dad pajamas, too. He supposed they really were getting old.

Eddie took his turn in the bathroom, and when he came out, he wore his own pair of dad pajamas, except his were red. Richie was lying under the covers, messing around on his phone. When he glanced up, his brows furrowed. “Okay, I swear I didn’t match with you on purpose.”

Eddie chuckled. “Hey, they’re different colors, so it’s okay.”

Richie repressed a laugh of his own. He set down his phone and turned off his light. Eddie climbed in next to him and turned off his own light. Leaving them next to each other in the dark. Everything always seemed different in the dark.

“G’night, Rich.”

“G’night, Eds.”

Both of them were silent a long moment. Then, Eddie rolled onto his back. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

Richie didn’t answer right away. “I know what you mean.” He felt Eddie’s leg fall against his. He let it stay there. 

“You know, we could die tomorrow. We could all die tomorrow.”

That had been heavy on Richie’s mind, too—especially since finding out about Stan. “We could’ve died when we were thirteen,” he pointed out.

Eddie shook his head. “Yeah, but that was different. We were kids. I don’t think we quite grasped the situation. Now, we’re adults, and we’ve got stuff we regret. And don’t say you don’t, because we all do. I just don’t wanna die feeling like I never really lived.”

Richie could relate to that so hard, but he didn’t know if Eddie meant the same thing. He wondered what Eddie _was _thinking about, though he didn’t ask.

What Eddie was thinking about was his mother. What Eddie was thinking about was Myra. The two women who’d pushed him down and repressed him his whole life. He was very well aware that he’d married his own mother. Not only did Myra act like his mother—she even looked like her. He’d never considered _actually_ leaving her (although he certainly wanted to) until now. The thought of spending the rest of his life with this woman was unbearable. The thought of dying was what drove it home. Well, that among other things.

Tentatively, he reached over to rest his hand on Richie’s arm. When Richie didn’t resist, he began to caress it.

This was nice, and thank_ fuck_ Eddie was the one to initiate it, because Richie sure as hell wouldn’t have. Not like when he was a dumb kid. Too much time had passed. But since Eddie _had_ been brave and made a move on him, he now felt he could do the same.

Richie leaned over and pressed his lips softly against Eddie’s. Unlike their first kiss, there was no hesitation from Eddie. This time, he immediately and enthusiastically kissed back, burying a hand in Richie’s hair. This was exactly where he’d been hoping his overtures would lead, and he wasn’t disappointed. It was just like—

\--just like when they were kids. Oh, Jesus, that was right. They kissed when they were kids. How could he forget that? The boy who haunted his dreams all this time was Richie. _Fuck_.

The kiss was passionate from the get-go, but that revelation compelled Eddie to let out a little sound. He moaned into Richie’s mouth. Richie hummed enthusiastically in reply.

Things weren’t _really _the same this time, though. The last time was both of their first kiss. This time, they were both adults. They both had experience now. So, this kiss surpassed the other by far.

Something not many people knew about: Eddie Kaspbrak was a very talented kisser. Unfortunately, this talent had been wasted on Myra for too long. Maybe that made it even better, brought out his passion even more. To be kissing someone he actually wanted to kiss after all this time. Eddie slipped his tongue into Richie’s mouth. Richie made a low sound of approval, massaging Eddie’s tongue with his own.

Eddie felt his cock starting to twitch and he knew it was time to stop. Of course, he was enjoying himself; he just didn’t feel like the timing was right. If they went any further than kissing right now, it would spoil it. So slowly, reluctantly, he pulled out of the kiss. Once he was sure Richie understood that they weren’t going all the way that night, he pressed another brief kiss to Richie’s lips. A kiss goodnight.

Richie rolled onto his side, back turned to Eddie. He couldn’t help it: he felt a little bit snubbed. This must have been how Eddie felt when he broke their first kiss all those years ago. 

Eddie couldn’t tell if Richie turning away was a bad sign. It probably was. Either way, he felt like he needed to do more. No, that wasn’t right: he had to break out of old habits, out of old patterns of thought. It wasn’t that he felt obligated to do more, it was that he _wanted_ to do more. He scooted across the bed to nuzzle the back of Richie’s neck before he wrapped his arms around the larger man. Much to his relief, Richie’s hand came to rest on one of his, stroking it gently.

Getting to sleep wasn’t as hard for either of them as they thought it would be.

* * *

The next morning, Richie checked out of his hotel room. If he had to stay in Derry, he wanted to stay with Eddie. It was crazy. He’d forgotten all about Eddie for so many years, and now after only a day, they’d already picked up right where they left off. All the love and affection he’d felt for Eddie as a young teen had returned. It didn’t hurt that Eddie had grown up to be hot, too. It didn’t even matter to him anymore that Eddie was married. If what they shared the night before was anything to go by, Eddie was like him.

That day, the group had to split up. They each had to go on their own journey to find a token. When they met back up at the hotel, Richie really didn’t want to talk about his experience. Much to his relief, neither did Eddie.

_ "I know your secret, your dirty little secret…”_

That had caught him off-guard. Then again, how could this being not pick up on it when it was a being that picked up on people’s worst fears? And shit, the fact that this was his worst fear made him feel like a big ole homophobe.

But Pennywise, that fucking clown, had seen him for who he really was. Had seen him in a way almost no one else had seen Richie. That fucking demon clown looked at him and knew.

_ “Should I tell them all?”_

That was what really scared him: the thought of this clown being the one to tell them. Being outed by that asshole. Having his choice to tell them taken from him, losing his agency to the evilest thing in the world. He hated it.

And he hated that after all of this, the only thing he wanted was to find comfort in Eddie’s arms. To lie on his side in bed, feel Eddie’s warmth pressed comfortingly against his back like it was the night before. Feel Eddie’s arms encircle him from behind and hold him _there_, hold him _steady_, hold him _safe_.

But these thoughts were selfish. He didn’t even know what Eddie had gone through. For all he knew, Eddie wanted to be comforted as desperately as he did. In fact, if what Eddie went through was anything like what Richie went through, they both needed comfort.

What he’d gone through…

The bats. Those fucking bats.

Richie had been at the park, remembering that time the Paul Bunyan statue attacked him when Pennywise came to him. Pennywise had mocked him for his sexuality and threatened to out him, but Richie remembered how he managed to make the Paul Bunyan statue stop in his youth. He closed his eyes tight, repeated to himself that this wasn’t real. He opened his eyes.

A swarm of bats flew into his face.

The bats had belonged to him and Eddie. That night they found out bats liked music, it felt like they’d discovered some age-old secret together. Yes, Ben came along with them once, but it was his and Eddie’s thing. The bats were their thing, and Pennywise used it against him. Those bats represented all the feelings Richie had ever had for Eddie and been afraid to admit.

Eddie was lying on the bed when Richie walked in. He seemed lost in thought, no doubt recalling his own experience. Richie laid down beside him, leaving plenty of space between them. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Eddie shook his head. “Thank fuck, ‘cause I don’t wanna talk about it, either.”

Eddie rolled onto his side, his back facing Richie.

The leper. He could feel the leper growing weak. He could tell it wouldn’t be able to fight him much longer, that he was so close to being able to make his escape.

But then the leper froze. It still clung to him tightly, but was no longer trying to get at him. He hadn’t expected it to just stop. This was it, this was that opportunity to escape that he’d seen coming. 

The leper opened its mouth, and bats erupted out of it into Eddie’s face.

The bats were one of those childhood memories that hadn’t returned to Eddie yet. At least, not until the leper was vomiting them all over him. He knew exactly what they meant. It was taunting him about his unspoken feelings toward Richie. The fact that for all this time, he’d been living a lie. His fear that today, he would die without ever having lived his truth.

“I’m not trying to give you the cold shoulder,” he finally said. “I’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“Same here.” He didn’t know if Eddie still needed quiet time or if Eddie talking to him was evidence that Eddie was ready for a conversation, but either way, he continued. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about regrets and not wanting to live a lie.”

Eddie turned to face him. “I didn’t mention anything about living a lie.”

“Oh. Well, then, whatever you said about not really living before you died. Whatever.” He waved a flippant hand through the air. He took a deep breath and let out a frustrated sound. He was terrified, but he’d be damned if he let that clown take this from him. This was _his_ choice. “I’ve never said this to anyone, but…I’m gay.”

Eddie froze. Richie couldn’t quite read his expression. Eddie met Richie’s eyes. “I know.” Then after a moment: “So am I.”

Richie’s mouth gaped. “You knew?”

Eddie snorted. “I mean, kissing me wasn’t very subtle.”

With a roll of his eyes, Richie glanced away. “Still, I think I deserve at least _some_ credit for finally saying it out loud.”

Eddie chuckled softly, stroking Richie’s cheek (briefly and only briefly). “I agree. That really was pretty damn brave of you, especially since you’ve never told anyone.” He left out the part where he’d never told anyone, either. If Richie hadn’t been the first to admit it, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve, either.

Then Richie was practically glaring at him. “Wait wait wait wait. What about your wife?”

Eddie shrugged. “I already told you. I don’t wanna fuck her.”

And that was that. Suddenly, Richie’s lips were on his, and Eddie was kissing him back full force.

They had sex once and only once, and it was the best sex Eddie Kaspbrak ever had.

The kiss escalated quickly, spurred by all the unresolved feelings they’d both harbored all these years; spurred by their confessions the moment before; spurred by the possibility of their deaths. The timing was finally right.

Eddie began unbuttoning Richie’s shirt, eager to see what was beneath it. He’d been fixated on the man’s broad shoulders this entire time. Eddie had a thing for broad shoulders. He also had a thing for chest hair, so when, at one point, he’d caught a glimpse of Richie’s, his breath had caught in his throat. Seeing Richie’s entire body had the potentiality of giving him an asthma attack.

Richie’s button-down was off now, and the two clumsily removed their t-shirts. Richie’s glasses may have caused some trouble briefly.

“You’ve got a nice body,” Eddie remarked, running his hands slowly down Richie’s chest and stomach. Remarkably, he wasn’t having an asthma attack. He could be grateful for that as well as the fact that this was actually happening.

“No, I don’t,” Richie said with an eyeroll in his voice. Eddie could tell he was just fishing for compliments. He took the bait.

“No, really. You’re hot.”

Richie smiled. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” Boy, was that ever an understatement. Richie went in for another kiss. They kissed each other for a while, hands exploring each other’s torsos, before Eddie finally broke the kiss.

The only reason Eddie removed his lips from Richie’s was so that he could kiss a different part of Richie’s body: his throat. That was another body part Eddie had been fixated on. He’d been fixated on Richie’s Adam’s apple, and now he was kissing it, kissing the vein that ran alongside it, and he could swear he heard Richie gasping at the contact. He felt Richie’s hand stroking the back of his head, saw Richie tilting his own head back, practically begging for more. Once again, Eddie obliged. He pushed Richie down so the larger man was on his back, and then he kissed and licked and sucked his neck like there was no tomorrow. Hell, for all they knew, there wasn’t one. They didn’t know if they’d survive their encounter with It.

Eddie felt Richie’s hips grind up against him, and he ground his hips down in response. Both of them were hard. Eddie rolled off of Richie, settling on his back on the bed beside him. Richie turned his head to give him an inquisitive look. Eddie unzipped his pants.

Richie knew exactly what was happening. He’d been here before. He knew exactly what Eddie wanted. And, oh God could he give Eddie what he wanted.

Richie moved so his head was between Eddie’s legs. He nuzzled the man through his underwear before pulling them down. 

Eddie had a nice dick. A _really _nice dick. Richie didn’t know how he felt about that. But he did know how to suck dick, so he got to it. He took the length into his mouth, looking up at Eddie to see his response. One would almost think the guy’d never been blown. Jesus. Richie reached down to rub himself through his jeans while he sucked Eddie.

He felt Eddie’s hand on his, pulling his hand away from himself. Eddie undid Richie’s pants and pushed them down, then his underwear. Then Eddie’s hand was wrapped around him while his mouth was wrapped around Eddie, and they were equals then, each giving the other one pleasure. Something that was new to both of them.

After a while, Eddie gently pulled Richie’s head away. “C’mere,” he said coyly. Richie spread himself out on top of Eddie, and Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

Richie gave him a look of vague confusion, then his mouth formed a soundless _Oh_. Richie straddled Eddie’s face, and from Eddie’s nod of approval, he knew this was exactly what Eddie had in mind. Eddie took Richie’s cock in his hand and slowly directed it toward his mouth. Richie gasped. Fuck, this was so much better with someone he cared about. For once, he repressed his urge to buck his hips into the other man’s mouth and just let Eddie set his own pace. He didn’t even know if Eddie had ever been with a guy, considering he was married to a woman. He had to go slowly with Eddie. Gently.

He felt his cock slowly slip out of Eddie’s mouth. “I want you inside me,” Eddie said, looking straight up at him, looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded, determination in his eyes.

Richie nodded. “Okay.” Okay. This was actually happening. He was actually about to fuck his childhood crush. He was so nervous, he felt a bit nauseous.

“Only—”

Richie resumed eye contact, intent on listening to what Eddie was about to say.

“I’ve never—”

Richie raised his brows. “_Never_?”

“I mean, with a guy.”

That clarification set Richie at ease, and he nodded to confirm his understanding.

“Just—go slow, okay?”

Richie nodded, then leaned down to kiss Eddie.

For some reason, Richie had brought lubricated condoms along with him. It was crazy. It wasn’t as if he’d been _planning_ on having sex while he was out here in Derry. And yet, here he was: having sex while he was out here in Derry. There was something inexplicable about it.

With another brief kiss to Eddie’s lips, he got up and went to his backpack. He took out one of the condoms and returned to his love. Because that was what Eddie was, right? His love? Richie loved Eddie, and he couldn’t deny it.

Richie kissed him softly, setting the condom down on the bed. “Roll over.”

Eddie looked unsure, but rolled over anyway. 

Richie took in the gorgeous sight of Eddie’s back. “You’ve got a nice ass,” he said, caressing one cheek with each hand.

“Really?” The genuine uncertainty in Eddie’s voice broke Richie’s heart.

“Yes, really.” Richie spread Eddie’s cheeks apart, settling between them. “It’s fucking gorgeous.” He buried his face in Eddie’s ass, tongue darting out to lick his entrance. He could hear Eddie reacting to him, but more importantly, he could _feel_ him reacting to him. He felt Eddie’s muscles contracting beneath his tongue, could tell the man was close. He kept going. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure Eddie came.

“_Fuck_, Rich,” Eddie whimpered, and Richie kept licking him until he felt those muscle contractions stop. He pressed a kiss to one cheek, then the other, before he rolled Eddie onto his back. Richie tore open the foil of the condom and rolled the latex onto himself. “Ready?” he asked. Eddie nodded enthusiastically, and that was all Richie needed.

Eddie was tight. Really tight. This wasn’t a surprise, since it was his first time bottoming. Hell, it wasn’t even a surprise when one considered his personality. But Richie was determined to make it last. He didn’t move inside Eddie at first. He simply leaned down to kiss the man on the lips. As the kiss grew more impassioned, he began to slowly move his hips. Eddie whimpered into his mouth, and he knew he was hitting his mark. Richie continued thrusting, aiming for that same spot each time and for the most part, hitting it. He began to feel his orgasm swell, and he could only hopoe he’d last long enough to make Eddie come again before he came himself.

“Oh, God,” Eddie gasped. His fingers grasped at the covers. Richie could tell Eddie was close. He kept thrusting, and was rewarded with the sound of Eddie’s moan, the view of the man spurting onto himself.

Richie’s mouth fell open as he approached orgasm. His entire face scrunched up when it happened, and he fell on top of Eddie. “_Fuck_, Eds, oh my God, I fucking love you, I love you so fucking much, always have.”

Well…shitfuck. That was so not what he meant to say. Then again, it wasn’t uncommon for him to not have control over his own mouth.

Richie pulled back to look down at Eddie (all while painfully aware of the fact that he was still inside him). Eddie looked fucking shook.

Richie rolled off of Eddie, removed the condom, tied it off, threw it out. There lied the only physical evidence that he’d ever made love to Eddie Kaspbrak: in the trash, right where it belonged. Right where _he_ belonged.

_fagsgetaidsfagsrapelittleboysfagsgotohellfagsdiealonefags—_

“Come here.”

Richie blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Eddie looked vulnerable as hell as he wrapped his arms around Richie. “Come here.”

Richie allowed Eddie to pull him down into an embrace. Truth be told, intimacy after sex wasn’t something he was used to. He had a feeling it wasn’t something Eddie was used to, either. Which meant that, yeah. Another revelation he’d been avoiding this whole time was also true: any sex Eddie had with his wife was not consensual. Richie gently stroked Eddie’s hair, relieved that not only had Eddie not shoved him away after his embarrassing orgasmic confession, but Eddie was holding him _there_, holding him _steady_, holding him _safe_.

In a few hours, Eddie Kaspbrak would be dead.

* * *

“Hey. Look,” Richie said, fidgeting with his glasses as he approached Eddie. He probably looked and sounded like a fucking psycho, but this was important. It was the first time they’d been alone since getting dressed after _that_. And it was the last time they’d be alone together before they went off to fight It, and God only knew what would happen. This was _important_, dammit. 

“Look,” Richie repeated, resting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and meeting his eyes. “Feel free to just ignore what happened, okay?” He gave his friend a slightly sad smile. “We’re probably all going to just forget again after this is all over, right? Just like last time? So if you don’t love me back, you don’t need to say anything. Just ride it out and forget.” He nodded, giving Eddie yet another smile that was equal parts sad and reassuring.

But Eddie wasn’t having any of that shit. He shook his head, and he felt Richie’s fingers dig into his shoulder. “I don’t wanna forget. Not this time.” He rested a hand on the hand that was currently digging into his shoulder almost enough to cause pain. As soon as he did, that hand let up, no longer digging, but simply resting. Resting. God, how Eddie wished he could do the same. “I don’t wanna forget,” he reiterated. “Look, Rich. As soon as I get home? The first thing I’m going to do is file for divorce against her. Okay? I don’t wanna live a lie anymore. I _can’t_ live a lie anymore. Especially after what happened.” His free hand briefly stroked Richie’s cheek, then fell back to his side.

Richie searched Eddie’s face for some evidence that Eddie was just fucking with him. But everything he saw pointed to Eddie being serious. And yet, still... “Are you serious? Because if you’re fucking with me, I’ll never forgive you.”

Eddie glanced around to make sure nobody else was around. “Yes, okay? Yes, I mean it.” He pressed a brief kiss to Richie’s lips, then looked around again, just to make sure they really were still alone. “I mean it.”

* * *

This wasn’t fair. They were supposed to grow old together. Or, at least, that was the fantasy Eddie had built up in his head. They were going to beat It together, and then he was going to go “home” and beat his other demon. Once the divorce was finalized, he could go home to Richie. The only_ real_ home he’d ever known. And they’d grow and heal together, until the both of them were old men, satisfied with the lives they’d lived and the love they’d shared and finally ready to move on.

Oh well. He supposed that dying so that Richie could live was good enough. But first, there was something important he had to say.

“I fucked your mom.”

That wasn’t the important thing Eddie had to say. He just wanted to see Richie laugh one last time. Richie didn’t laugh.

But now they were alone together, and he could say it. “Rich, I---I never really forgot you. Not completely.”

Richie’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” He sounded absolutely terrified, and with good reason: the man he loved was probably (key word here being “probably”) dying in his arms (and, goddammit, the key word was _probably_), and there was nothing he could do about it. And here Eddie was, claiming he hadn’t quite forgotten Richie the way the other Losers had forgotten each other. The way Richie had forgotten Eddie.

Eddie coughed. Blood came out. Oh, that wasn’t good. “I mean…what I talked about yesterday?” And God, it was hard to believe that was only yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago. “What I said about how I remembered vague impressions and ideas? I remembered those about you.” He winced in pain, but he was determined to get through this. “I remembered your sense of humor. And how you used it to cover up pain. I remembered the way your lips felt against mine that time we—”

“You remembered that?”

Eddie nodded, looking up at him vulnerably. “I didn’t remember your face. Your name. But somehow, I remembered _you_. The way you were. The way you made me feel. I remembered, Rich. And I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

When Richie didn’t say anything, Eddie continued. “I love you, Richie. I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

Richie let out a dry sob. “I love you, too. So goddamn much.”

Eddie smiled. “I love you more than anything.” His expression turned almost mischievous. “Now, go kill that fucking clown.”

* * *

Richie had long since gotten rid of his old boombox. He’d long since gotten rid of his old tape collection. And he’d sure as hell gotten rid of his love of New Wave. But that didn’t stop him. That night, he was pulling out all the stops.

Richie grabbed his Bluetooth speaker and wandered into the middle of the field. It was late at night, but that had never scared him and Eddie. Not when they were together. He turned his speaker on and waited for his phone to connect to it. He searched Spotify for Billy Idol, then he laid down on the grass as he hit play.

He smiled as he saw the bats begin to swoop overhead.

Eddie wasn’t really gone. As long as Richie held Eddie in his heart? As long as Richie carried Eddie’s memories with him? Eddie was still here.

After all, nobody who died in Derry ever _really _died. 


End file.
